


Just Dial "Hell" and I'll Answer

by wanderlustandwhiskey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Dean Winchester, Dean in Hell, Demon Bela Talbot, Torturer Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 07:38:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11352870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderlustandwhiskey/pseuds/wanderlustandwhiskey
Summary: After more than 1,000 Hell years of being tortured, Bela's soul has been twisted into a demon. She pays a visit to one of the people who made it that way: Dean Winchester.





	Just Dial "Hell" and I'll Answer

**Author's Note:**

> This contains a spoiler for the season 12 finale, so if you haven't seen it yet, consider yourself warned.

With Crowley gone, apparently for good this time, the Winchesters found themselves with a vacancy in the position of frenemy demon. Which is why Dean was hearing out the black-eyed bitch currently standing in front of him instead of running her through.

"Dean Winchester. It's been a long time. Last I saw you, you were making me scream, and not for fun reasons." She eyed him up and down. "I still think we should have angry sex."

"What are you doing here, Bela?" Dean demanded.

"I thought we could have a little Hell Class of 2008 reunion."

Dean hadn't thought about that part of his life in years. Well, not consciously. He'll probably always have the nightmares. Sometimes they're about him being tortured and sometimes he's the one doing the torturing.

He remembers what it felt like when he finally said yes to Alastair, when he finally gave in and agreed to become one of Hell's torturers, when he finally got off the rack and put some other souls on and started ripping them apart. He felt relief that his own pain was over. He felt disgust at his weakness for breaking. He felt the _rightness_ of holding a weapon again. How good, _so good_ , it felt to have something physical to do. Dean always preferred when there was something he could punch, shoot, or kill. After all, fighting, hunting, killing—that's what he was good at, what he was born to do. And Hell was full of monsters, people who'd done awful things and were getting what they deserved. That's what he told himself when he first held a knife to a soul and started to cut. After a while, he didn't even care if they were guilty or innocent. It didn't really matter if they'd been tricked into selling their soul, or if they'd traded their life for someone else's, like he'd done for Sammy. They were in Hell, and if he didn't torture them, someone else would.

After a while, he enjoyed it.

Eventually the day came when the person on the rack in front of him was someone he knew. "I told you I'd see you in Hell," Dean said. Then he dragged his blade across Bela's flesh and watched her blood puddle on the floor.

Dean's not sure how many days (months? years? time is funny in Hell) he worked on Bela.

Some days she'd act cocky and unconcerned, like nothing he did or said bothered her. She'd have a steely gaze and some snide remark no matter how many bones he broke or how many teeth and nails he yanked out. He knew better than to believe she wasn't afraid though. Dean was intimately familiar with bravado; it was his default setting. So whenever she got too mouthy, he'd force that pretty little mouth open and cut out her tongue and let her gag and choke on the blood that filled her throat.

Some days she'd scream. She'd scream as the sharp point of his knife dug into her skin and exposed her muscles and nerves and organs. She'd wail and shriek as he filleted her flesh from her bones. She'd writhe and moan when he wrapped his fingers around her intestines and squeezed, and she'd howl when they popped. She'd scream until her throat was as raw and red as the rest of her body. She'd scream until he pried apart her ribs and deflated her lungs like tired balloons. She'd scream until she had no breath left to scream.

Some days she'd cry and whimper and beg him to help her, plead with him to stop. Appeal to his desire to save people. But she was long past helping. And no one was going to save them. They weren't worth it. So Dean would carve her up nice and slow. And when her tears streamed down her face and swirled together with her blood, he'd use the sanguine fluid to finger paint sigils on her chest and ask her if she felt safe now.

"You're so damaged," he'd once told her.

"Takes one to know one," she'd replied.

She was right. What a pair they made. Both with daddy issues, shitty childhoods, demon deals they made because of their families—her to get rid of hers and him to get his back.

Dean assumed Bela's parents were here somewhere. He was pretty sure there was a special level of Hell reserved for child molesters. Yeah, he'd gotten the truth out of Bela about why she really sold her soul. It's not like he had anything better to do. There's a lot of time to fill in forever.

Of course it wasn't forever for Dean after all. Castiel, Angel of the Lord, had dragged him from Hell, out of the fire and back into the frying pan, to be a pawn in a cosmic game of chess.

Dean had had too many of his own problems then to give a second thought to Bela.

But now here she was, topside, her once green eyes turned black. Bela was an untrustworthy sociopath as a human; God only knows what she's like as a demon.

Of course, Sam and Dean work with people they don't trust all the time. And having a demon at their disposal definitely came in handy more than a few times in the past. Hence why Dean was listening to this demon instead of introducing her to the business end of an angel blade.

"A reunion?" Dean scoffed. "You wanna get the gang back together? Sure, why don't we invite my old buddy Alastair. Oh wait, he's dead."

"So is Crowley, I hear. Killed himself to trap Lucifer in an alternate reality—very convenient. Which is why I'm here. Without Crowley and Lucifer, there's quite a leadership vacuum in Hell."

"Your point?"

"The King is dead," Bela smirked. "Long live the Queen."


End file.
